


Dirty Little Secret

by Merci



Category: DOGS - Fandom
Genre: Blasphemy, M/M, Mystery Character(s), Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-02
Updated: 2009-05-02
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:24:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merci/pseuds/Merci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Badou stumbles across someone engaged in a most improper use for a confessional.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Little Secret

**Author's Note:**

  * For [2013](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=2013).



> **Disclaimer:** I am making no profit from this fanfiction. I do not own Bishop, Badou, Mihai or Dogs. They belong to Miwa Shirow.
> 
> This was created for 2013 for her birthday on her birthday.  She requested Bishop, and I work fast when properly motivated with HIM.

The heavy church doors closed behind Badou as he wandered inside.  His last job with Haine had been a bust and his pigmentally-challenged partner was off talking with Granny Liza about how it wasn’t their fault.  His footsteps echoed in the sanctuary and he was halfway down the aisle before he realized he was alone.  The sanctuary was empty, with only the sounds of the stained glass rattling in the frames and a muffled noise coming from the confessional.

Badou turned on his heel, looking behind him and finding it eerily strange that Nill wasn’t flittering about, balancing along the back of the pews or doing any of the cute things she was drawn to.  The bishop was also mysteriously absent from his domain.  The redhead dug around in his pockets and withdrew his last cigarette, which he’d bummed off some poor sucker on the way over.  The old priest usually had a stash of smokes waiting for him – being the enabler that he was – and he was getting desperate for the generosity of the resident holy man.  “The hell is he?” Badou asked as he flicked his lighter beneath the rolled tobacco perched between his lips.  The flame licked at the end and he inhaled through the stick, feeling the poisoned air caressing his lungs.

There it was again.

Badou turned his head, the muffled sound filtering out from the confessional once more and drawing his attention.  The tall booth sat against the side of the sanctuary wall, tucked away beside the pews and beneath a large stained glass image of a man in bright blue robes walking down a darkened path.  The unknown figure stared down at Badou as the smoker approached the confessional beneath.  The redhead warily neared the lacquered structure, his eyebrows rising and his cigarette dangling dangerously low as he heard the muffled sound again.

It was a moan.

“Damn kids…” he muttered, reaching for his gun.  “When the bishop’s away, the mice will play…” He didn’t know of anyone bold enough to sneak into a church for a place to fuck, but maybe these people were really stupid. 

His feet stopped moving forward and he tilted his head again.  The sound had risen in volume, and the soft, baritone that mewled out from the confessional sounded familiar.  It was hard to tell, but he was almost positive.  His hand twitched on his gun, eager to put it away and approach out of curiosity rather than authority.  If he knew this person, how could he threaten them to leave, even if they _were_ fucking in church?

Suddenly everything mattered; the sound his boots made on the floor, the noise of his gun as it slid back into its holster.  He didn’t want to make a sound as he drew nearer to the confessional, didn’t want to get caught listening in to figure out who was in there.

He really _did_ just want to find out who it was.  The fact that the noise had gone straight to his crotch meant nothing, really…

Badou hunched over as he drew near, hovering close but not touching the lacquered wood as he heard a distinctly male voice inside.  There were no words, just the pleading moans and light creak of wood.  Badou imagined someone lifting their hips in helpless desire, the creak of old wood the only evidence beyond the dark box of what was happening inside.  Then he heard it.  It was breathy and shallow.  A weathered gasp forming words on the inhale, but it was all Badou needed to hear. 

 _‘Oh yeah…’_

The tail-end of the word teetered off, rising in pitch before being cut in half by a throaty gasp.  A sucking noise seemed to swallow the gasp and the creaking sound increased in pace.

Oh, Jesus… Badou was screwed now. 

 _‘F-f-uc~ yeah…’_

His cock throbbed against his thigh and Badou absently pressed his palm against his crotch, trying to make the pressure go away.  His eye fluttered at the feeling and he slumped against the side of the confessional.  It had been way too long since he’d gotten off and his dick was getting back at him for the neglect.

With his last shred of thought, Badou looked around the sanctuary, satisfied that the bishop and Nill were nowhere to be seen before he did what he could only explain as insane.

 _‘H-harder~’_

The voice chirped from within, low and husky and still so familiar to Badou that he prayed to God that he wasn’t heard as he lowered the fly on his jeans.  He stuffed his hand into his pants, pressing hard against his needy flesh.  He closed his eye, letting the darkness of this sin consume him and he ran his fingers over his erection.  The smoke curled up from his cigarette, filling his senses as it burned down to the filter.  He burned with embarrassment and desire for what he was doing.

The confessional creaked loudly, the voice muttering low.  Too low for Badou to hear, but he got the message.  He stroked his dick harder, his face burning red with how easy it was.  How fast his cock was responding.  Smoke filled his senses, stinging his eyes and he dropped the nearly-spent filter.  Desire turned to pain as he cursed lowly and wiped at his eye. 

He coughed once.

The movement stopped.  The voices stopped.

Badou coughed again and cursed as he blinked the smoke away.

Suddenly the confessional door snapped open.  Badou nearly fell in.

With his hand still on his dick, still fisting it in a horny death-grip, Badou looked up to the flushed and mildly-perturbed faces of Bishop and Mihai.

Well, Mihai looked annoyed.  Bishop looked a mix of horny and amused as he pressed his sweaty forehead against the ex-assassin’s throat.

Badou’s brain hiccupped as he looked at the pair stuffed into the confessional booth, sitting tightly together with their trousers loosened and their dicks freed, held in each other’s grip.  Their bodies were pressed haphazardly together, legs kicked out and locked together, Mihai’s arm around Bishop’s shoulders to hold him tight, the younger man’s face burning red against his throat.  Badou’s aqua eye looked over the stiff shafts with rosy heads peeking out from solid, familiar grips.  Mihai’s large, calloused fist encompassed Bishop’s long cock, while the blind priest’s long and slender fingers skillfully massaged the solid shaft that sprang from the ex-assassin’s trousers.

The smoker tightened his grip on his own penis, still burning with need in his jeans.  He was at a loss.

Mihai looked embarrassed, but couldn’t resist thrusting up into the bishop’s grip once the holy man resumed his movements.

“Got something to confess, Badou?” Bishop said with a knowing lilt, rolling his hips up into Mihai’s fist.  “Step into the other booth, then.  The sanctuary isn’t a place for dirty little secrets.”

Badou shuddered and nodded dumbly.  He bolted for the adjoining confessional booth and shut the door with a snap.  The window snapped open and through the lattice, he could make out the hazy outline of Mihai on the other side, holding the younger priest to his body and their fists working once more on each other’s cocks.  The smoker slouched in his seat, freeing his cock from his jeans and licking along the pad of his thumb.  He wasn’t the exhibitionist type, and he liked the privacy of confession just fine.  He arched his hips up into his fist.  Before long, he was making the confessional creak in time with the fevered jerks of the fists he saw beyond.


End file.
